Monster
by footshooter
Summary: The atmosphere has changed, for one of many reasons. T for swearing and violence.


"_I'll give you anything you'll ever need, and I'll find a way to turn you into a monster. Me and you we can rule the world, 'cause no ones gonna mess with me - I'm a monster. I'll give you anything you'll ever need, and I'll find a way to turn you into a monster. Me and you we can rule the world, 'cause no ones gonna fuck with me - I'm a monster." **-Professor Green ft Example; Monster**_

_**Songs been stuck in my head for bloody ages, I kinda had to write a story on it! I don't have much else to say, really. Just that ya need to use your own imagination for this one too. Take it where ever ya want to. Have fun!  
-fs**_

* * *

The Joker's teeth are bared, his forehead is covered in sweat, greasepaint cracking and showing strangely tanned skin underneath. Batman always imagined him to be pale as a ghost underneath, but he didn't often get chance to test that theory. The Joker was panting, scrabbling backwards across the cold, damp floor before bouncing back to his feet. He was favouring one leg, blood was pouring from a cut in his side, formed from one of the Batarangs.

The game had changed considerably from the Joker joking and making pathetic attempts to creep Batman out with come on's. Batman had beaten him with fury he didn't often show, and the Joker had worked out that, well, Batsy wasn't playing _games_. So, the Joker upped his. He wasn't, ah, _happy_ about this whole _deal_ with a lady pretending to be a cat hanging off his arm and taking up his attention, so, maybe it was time to _show _it.

Batman was shocked when the Joker started hitting back – he normally lay on the floor or bounced out of the way of his punches. He normally allowed himself to be a punchbag for the fury Batman had over whatever he'd done. But there was genuine rage in his eyes as he started hitting back. Knives started skimming his suit, somehow finding the gaps between the plates and scraping against his skin. Batman had punched him six or seven times before he was _finally_ knocked to the floor, where he snarled and backed away before jumping to his feet once again.

They were standing a few meters apart, panting and staring at each other. The air was charged with something neither seemed to recognise and, somehow, the balance had shifted.

The Joker licked his lips and narrowed his eyes.

"Ya know, this cudda turned out _so_ differently."

Ah, the beloved speech.

"You and me, we _understand_ each other. You pretend you don't understand me, but I _know_ you do. I can see it. In your _eyes_. When you look at me like that, it's not distain, no. you think it is, but it's not. Because you're staring through the looking glass. You're seeing what you _want_ to be."  
"You talk _shit_, Joker."

The Joker started to laugh.

"See, you're _denying _yourself even now! Oh man, you crack me up! Can't you see it, _honey_? Can't you _tell_?"  
"I don't know what you're talking about."  
"Sure you do. You've just gotta _let_ yourself. Let yourself go."

He opened his arms.

"C'mon, show me what you've _got_!"

Batman frowned.

"Why?"  
"You're tired of the game, _Brucie_, I know. I can tell."

The Joker was nodding, and Bruce felt a pang at the realisation that the Joker knew. The Joker's mouth cracked into a smile, scars stretching.

"Oh, _that_? Don't worry about it, I've known that for a _long_ time now. And I haven't told anyone yet. Y'know why? Huh? Because I wouldn't _want_ to ruin it. This. What we _have_."

The Joker snarled.

"But you're tired of the game, and you've ruined it yourself so _go AHEAD_!"

The last words were shouted out into the night, and Bruce's head was scrabbling desperately to keep up.

"What are you talking about?"

The Joker regained some sense of composure.

"I'm not standing by and watching _her_ take you down. I _won't_. You can't even _see_ it. You can't _get_ what she's doing to ya; you're so _blinded_. C'mon, you barely come out, you let that _birdbrain _take over your patch, when you do come out you're chasing her across rooftops and you have _no _time for _anyone_ doing anything real. It's pathetic."

The Joker spat the last sentence of his speech.

"Is this what this whole thing is about? The murders? The poisoning? The blood trail left across the city? This whole _deal_ is because you're _jealous_."

The Joker was stunned for a second, then dissolved into hysterics.

"You… You think I'm… _jealous_? Oh _man_, you get me. You get me _right here_."

The Joker pointed at his heart as he continued to laugh. And then he abruptly stopped, staring at Bruce and cocking his head.

"If you wanna leave, I've got nothing left. You're my _anchor_. So whatever you're planning, your new life with her somewhere in the country with kids and a _dog_. Nah-ah. It won't make you happy. And it will _destroy_ me. So go ahead. Take me down. I'll take it. I'm not sitting around and waiting for the _lack _of you to get me. Put me outta my misery."  
"I-"  
"Nah-ah-ah, Bruce. Nope. Not good enough. You're not doing it to me. I won't _let _you."  
"Joker-"  
"DON'T-"

The Joker growled, and stared off to the side for a second before taking a deep breath.

"Don't say that."

Bruce sighed, starting to lose patience and get angry once more.

"Well what am I supposed to say, huh? Oh, you know so much about _me_, you get to call _me_ by my name but you? What've I got? Name, no. Age, no. Location, no. You are _no one_."  
"Ah-ah. No."  
"You are. You're nothing."  
"THEN JUST FUCKING KILL ME!"

There was silence for a few minutes. Silence and staring.

"Yep. Just kill me. But _no_, you won't do that, will ya? Huh? And why not?"  
"I have one rule-"  
"Bull _shit_. You won't kill me because I'm too much _fun_!"

An accent was building when the Joker was losing his composure and it was distinctly non-American. Before Bruce could place it, the Joker had realised and managed to get back his normal, nasal, high-pitched tone.

"I'm not saying it to break you. I'm _asking_ it of you."

The Joker shrugged, and Bruce lost it. He rammed the other man up against a wall and held him there.

"Don't _ever_ ask that of me!"  
"Why not?"  
"Just _don't_."

Bruce dropped him to the ground and took a few steps back. The Joker always knew how to get to him.

"So what now? We're kinda stuck at a path. Because you want to _disappear_, and I don't want you to. I _know_ there's no point to anything without you, and you won't let yourself believe that there's point without me. Y'see, Bruce, if you _go_, you won't be happy. But you won't let yourself see that. I know it. I _want_ you to know it. But, you're just too _stubborn_."

His voice had dropped in pitch and sounded altogether more natural. Bruce sighed.

"Well what do you want then? Us to run away into the sunset together?"

The Joker scoffed.

"Yah, coz _that'll _work."  
"I'm getting too old for this."  
"I'm not. And I'm guessing we're a similar age."

Bruce growled.

"Aw, does not knowing anything about me get to ya _that_ much, Brucie?"  
"Stop calling me that!"  
"Nope. Bruce! Bruce! Bruce _Waaayne_!"  
"Jesus, shut up."  
"If I said yes, what would you do?"  
"What?"  
"You just asked me a question. If I had've said yes, would you have done it?"

Bruce stared at him, and then sighed again. He allowed the exhaustion to overtake him, and collapsed to the floor.

"I don't know."  
"Aw, you shouldn't say things if you're not prepared to carry them through."  
"Who are you?"

The Joker shrugged.

"Different people on different days. Bit of a recurring theme, but I don't wanna discuss that. Kinda hurts somewhere in my _heart_."  
"You have one?"  
"Of course."

There was silence for a while.

"You brought me here, y'know?"  
"Don't say that."  
"What? You _did_. I saw ya in a paper and was like, woah, I gotta meet this guy. And then I realised that, wow, all those skills I have for killing people and pissing off the mob might actually come in handy for something."  
"You could've used those _skills_ for something better."

The Joker smirked.

"And you could've used _yours_ for something worse. Wow, are you finally getting it?"  
"I don't think I'm like you."  
"You _are_, just _fucking_ admit it already!"  
"Jesus…"  
"What?"  
"You're hard work."  
"Try living with me."

Bruce cocked an eyebrow under the cowl, and then shook his head.

"Would you stop?"  
"Huh?"  
"If I agreed, would you stop?"

The Joker groaned.

"Aw, no, no, _no_! I'm not… No! You can't just do it because of that! You have to believe in what I'm saying. You need to see that… That we make each other real. We complete each other. Why can't you just _fucking see_!"

Bruce frowned.

"Australia."  
"Huh?"  
"Your voice."  
"Fuck you."

Bruce felt a sense of triumph.

"You are!"  
"I don't know what you're talking about."

Bruce shrugged, and leant against the wall. The Joker sat on the floor, knees pulled up to his chest. He started hitting his head off his knees and Bruce's attention switched back to him.

"So," he said. "What now?"

The Joker looked up at him, stared for a minute or so, and then leapt to his feet. Bruce's guard went up as the other man approached him, but he stood his ground. He stopped in front of him and held out his hand. Bruce warily took it, expecting some sort of electric shock, but it didn't happen.

"Hi. I'm Jack."

The Joker's accent was genuine and his mannerisms were completely different. But Bruce hid his confusion well, shaking back.

"Hello. Bruce."  
"Nice to meet ya, Bruce."  
"Yeah, you too, Jack."

The Joker nodded, turned and walked away.

"Your move."

Bruce didn't quite know what his move was going to, or should be, so he stood on the rooftop and stared after the Joker for a while. Then he went home.


End file.
